Don't eat socks
by anthropophagus
Summary: Green flu has made it's way into Canada. A group of three have decided if this is the end of the world, they shouldn't have to be so serious. They stumble through the Apocalypse and battle their emotions, forcing captivity on unlikely infected. OC's.
1. The news is on

As a side note, this story does include strong language, explicit sexual themes, profanity, and explicit violence/gore.

Please do not read on if you are not of an age of maturity to handle this.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Valve produced game Left 4 Dead, all references as well as the infected characters concept belong to them.

"... And in other news, the Green Flu, originating in the states, has been migrating it's way up to Canada. The first Provinces it has affected are Ontario, Alberta, Saskatchewan and Winnipeg, soon to be making it's way to British Columbia. All residents are advised to stay indoors, board windows, and to not take further action until an announcement has been made. Bombings have taken place to try and contain this epidemic, but to no avail. The infection has been spreading steadily for almost two months, and now other countries have been supplying help to battle the viral threat. All cities to the north of the great lakes should be advised to stay indoors, do not risk any type of infection, stay away from sick individuals and _to wash your hands!_.." The reporter laughed mildly, his sagging old face lifting his jowls in a smile. Grey haired, well trimmed, professional. Exactly what you would expect from a news casting reporter. The only off thing about this man was that he had a multitude of Canadian pins fastened to his blazer. He was either highly patriotic (Which most Canadians aren't) Or he was American. Considering that he had voiced this single report with much anguish and sincerity, or any report about the states really, he must have been American.

"What a load of horse shit!" Tuning out the television, the woman turned to pick up a small phone. It was the typical phone, a slide, touch screen. Most people now'a days could afford them. After these little slippery bastards came out, they never really advanced them. They just became more affordable, and soon everyone who could earn a small sum of money from either a terrible job or panhandling had one. So much for 'future high tech'.

No texts, no calls, nothing. If the day could have gotten any plainer then this, She would probably be dead, Or at least a paraplegic vegetable with no more brain power then a door knob.

"Y'know, If they are just gonna come out 'an say 'zombie apocalypse', Why haven't they done it already? Are they scared of mass hysteria or somethin'? We're Canadians, not Americans. We practically live in the bush and fist-fight bears." She sighed heavily, speaking to herself while jamming pieces of rainbow coloured candy strips in her mouth.

"Woah Woah Woah, you're Canadian, I'm not. Does that mean I'm going to die first?" A man poked his head out from around the corner of the small apartment, lazily letting his gaze slide from the television to his female companion.

"Nah, I wouldn't let you die. Where's Snags? I don't want to have to go to work and then come back and you guys are locked out or something." She said, calmly huffing to herself while running a hand over her pair of slumbering kittens.

"I think Snags went out to stop at the corner store down the street. She'll be back in a minute.." The male sighed softly, flopping down next to the female, scooping up the little animals to save them from being crushed. They mewled quietly in disappointment and from awaking from their slumber. Stretching and voicing their discomfort they curled back up on his lap. "No kitties, No don't fall- No stop that no sleeping. Stop it." He nudged the little animals awake, one of them batting at his hand weakly. "No kitties, Stop. No. No bad kitty!" He flinched, crunching up his face as the little animal dug it's claws into his leg. His Companion snatched up the two little things, snuffing them off to the side of the couch where they instantly curled back up.

"They just like you Jazz."

"I think they are out to get me! Bacon gives me the evil eye all the time and Streaky sits on my face when I sleep. I think your cats are trying to kill me."

"No, They are just being cats. Now, when they start bringing dead flies from god knows where and dropping them in your slippers, you'll have a problem."

"Erika that's a cats form of endearment and love."

"I really don't want their love in my slippers."

They both went back to watching the report on the television, listening as the man with the ridiculous amount of pins droned on about mundane things. A tornado here, Democratic Collapse there, Germany and Austria at the top of the world, the Canadian dollar this, inflation that. None of it was particularly interesting. Murder here, murder there. Finally something interesting happened, and what a relief it was; It was almost as if the two could feel their brains degrading into a puddle of mush. The sag-faced swathe reporter leaned forward, pressing a finger to his ear, jamming the ear piece further in as if to hear properly. He was either really good at being dramatic and re-enacting reporters from the horror movies, was actually in shock, or was half deaf. Maybe all three.

"I've just been.. informed that.." He gulped slightly, barely listening to himself. His eyes were fairly wide open and blank, focusing on nothing at all. He had spoken a little too soon, and was now being flooded with information. After a few seconds he leaned back, wiping his forehead to dab away perspiration regardless of whether there was actually any there. The man sagged in his chair, taking a deep breath and loosening his tie. He cleared his throat, and his jowls seemed to hang lower then when he started the casting.

"Kent? We're still on the air." A soft mans voice called from behind the camera. The reporter looked up, blinking for a moment and clearing his throat once more. He still seemed in shock, and as he found his voice he shook slightly. Just as he opened his mouth he started re-arranging papers nervously, before finally just knocking them off his desk. After his little tirade he finally looked the camera head on, his mouth hanging open slightly. Someone off set cleared their throat, urging him on.

"Yes.. I-... Ahem.. I have just been informed that.. CEDA finds it necessary to reveal to us the.. true nature of this epidemic. It seems we are in the midst of.. A pseudo-Zombie apocalypse. Yes, you heard right. A zombie apocalypse. All residents are advised to.. Stock up on any food supplies, weapons and clothes. Barricade homes, board windows until evacuation points have been set. This.. Virus, They say, Is derived from rabies. The assailants have been properly named the infected, and that-... that isn't all." His whole demeanour seemed to unravel as he repeated the information.

"All audiences are advised to watch the footage and images with caution. Some of the images are graphic and may.. disturb some viewers." As he finished speaking, the news feed was cut, and the screen went black. After what seemed like a painstaking eternity, it flipped back on, showing broken and damaged footage for a few seconds before cutting out again, Only to return with a clear picture.

A man was standing in the middle of a street, a multitude of men behind him, shooting at snarling, running people. There was blood everywhere, and stray organs as well as chunks of flesh littered the street in a nonchalant fashion. The man was smiling and chuckling quietly, speaking casually to someone off screen, making some sort of joke. He wore a heavy bullet proof vest, CEDA cleanly printed on his front. Americans. He seemed young, only in his possible middle thirties. His chin was scruffy, a nicely shaven goatee encircling his face. His hair was a very lavish brown, an almost shimmering almond colour. He had an average build, and seemed to be fairly tall and lanky. He wore a simple over shirt, and black formal pants. His clothes were dirty, and splattered with the thick colour of blood, and what seemed to be a runny green slime. Maybe he had gone dumpster diving in a pile of dead hookers. Somebody called his name, queueing him to begin what ever he had planned to talk about. His focus snapped up, and he smiled warmly at the camera lens.

"Behind me, as you can see, are the common infected." He stated simply, swivelling his whole body back to motion an arm towards the carpet of dead bodies, as well as the gasping, gurgling, screeching and heaving ones still in their death throes on the pavement. They were in some sort of empty parking lot.

He continued on. "And to my left, we have other infected that been captured with the efforts of these.. gallant men." He seemed fairly studious in awarding praise the the efforts of the gun-handlers around him. He turned, directing the crew towards a row of what seemed like grotesquely mutated people. "This virus, it mutates the host like you would not believe. Like, look at this guy! He's so damn fat he jiggles around like a god damn bowl of jello!" He motioned his hand towards a morbidly obese man. He had pale grey-green skin, and huge growths around the girth of his stomach. His shirt had been pushed up from the sheer mass that his stomach was now. He almost looked disgustingly pregnant. His arms were bloated, and full of the warty-growths as well. He had a few lumps on his face, and the skin seemed to be fairly normal. His eyes were a pale yellow like colour. His arms had been bound to his sides, and he was leaning up against a wall. A gag was in the way of his mouth, a stream of bile bubbling past the gag and dribbling down his lips. His shirt was stained with blood and a gooey kind of vomit.

"Anyways," the man continued, looking back at the fat mass of a human. "This guy is called a boomer. Now, these fellas aren't your run-of-the-mill infected. They are slow, and will follow people relentlessly. If you ever come into contact with one, shoot it. But make sure you are a fair distance away from it. Eight to ten feet is advisable 'cuz they explode. Don't let 'em puke on you either. For one, it stinks, and for two, it can attract every god damn zombie in your area. That and you can't ever see through the shit! They are ugly, an you can hear 'em 'comin when they make a burping noise. Stay away from 'em." The man had a Texan accent, and the way he held his mouth to one side proved that he was used to having something gripped in the side of his mouth. Possibly a cigarette.

As he proceeded on, he came to the limp form of a woman. She was dressed in fairly casual clothes, they were blood spattered and ripped. They were now more like ratty rags then anything. Her skin was so pale, and her arms looked like a necrotic black, ending in enormous bone-like claws on her hands. Her hair was hanging in lanky dirty strips, an almost drained colour of brown. There were gunshots in her neck and head, thankfully the camera couldn't see her eyes or face.

He looked up, continuing on. "Now, this 'lil missy is called the witch. Those claws on her hands can rip you to shreds in one hit. It's easy to identify her, and avoid her. She wails and sobs at all times, making it easy to hear her anywhere she is. At night she is stationary, and during the day she wanders around. If you give her at least a good eight to eleven feet of space, she wont come after you. Maybe hiss a little and growl, but that's it. Never shine 'yer lights on them, ever. They hate it, and will be more inclined to attack. Don't under estimate a witch, they can break through metal doors and chicken wire. A safe witch is a dead witch." His face was deadpanned with seriousness. He wasn't about to make a joke like he had with the boomer.

Once again he moved, coming to another captive. This one was alive, and also a woman. There was a male counterpart beside her, they both had a ridiculous amount of gags on. These two both wore tight clothing, their stomachs bulging slightly in the flop of fat over their pants. The woman almost looked as if she were straight from a land fill. Her body was loose, extra fat hanging over her gut and a pair of love handles to go with it. Her shirt was a ripped up blouse and undershirt. An unsuppressed amount of cleavage over hang down her shirt, suggesting she hadn't been the best looking when she had become infected and sick. The man next to her seemed to be almost the same. He was pudgy, and they both had long graceful necks. The skin had been pulled down, like when you shove a sock down your leg and it wrinkles. They were both missing the skin around their cheeks, and the bottom halves of their faces seemed to be skinned off. The man only lacked part of his nose, while the woman simply had a bony orifice left. More green ooze soaked into the gags and dripped past their pseudo-mouths. They had very sickly coloured skin, small abrasions and boils doting their flesh.

"These are called spitters, They make screeching gasping sounds, like my wife at the shoe store." He paused to laugh, brushing a hair out of his face. "An these bastards can spit goo from long distances, avoid these guys at all costs. They spit a highly corrosive acid that burns the skin. That an they're ugly." He spent less time with the spitters then the other two, and quickly moved on, coming to another dead and deformed body.

The creature looked like a small stout man, or like.. a long thin-limbed midget. He was awkwardly hunched over, and his spine was pushing against his skin. He had no skin around his mouth, leaving only his teeth and gums. His eyes a glossy rotted yellow-like colour. He must have been dead for quite some time. Once again the man was very serious, his face dropping slightly. It was probably the best poker face he could muster.

"Now, we ain't got much time, so 'imma make this quick. This 'ere is a Jockey, or lil' leaper. He laughs like a psycho at all times, and can jump long distances. He jumps on y'ere back and drives you to where ever the hell he wants! Off a cliff? Sure. In a river? Sure. Into a horde? You bet. Shit, this monster is also hard to shoot, they are so damn fast. Travel together, and hope you don't meet one." He quickly shuffled on, pointing to another bound mutated person. Tumours encased parts of his face, especially one side of his head, the left side. They seemed to be more ingrown then bulbous and over hanging like most were. He had a few large lumps overhanging on his face, and neck. His shirt was lifted in areas where there were tumours on his chest, shoulder, and neck. A pasty yellow eye peered quietly at the camera. He had more lumps and boils down his hands, and arms, one arm very lumped, the tumours lessening as they neared his hands. He had blood down the front of his shirt, a very dirty and ruffled black dress shirt hanging on his long bold shoulders. He has matted tufts of blond hair poking around his head, covering his forehead. There was a thick tongue, or sausage like thing, hanging out of his mouth. It was strapped around his neck, and a sock was stuffed in his mouth. He voiced his discontent and made a muffled signature scream, after which he went into a coughing fit, shaking violently. He pulled his hands apart, trying to free himself and his bound legs. He seemed twice as calm as the other infected, and seemed more inquisitive and intelligent. After struggling for a moment he calmed himself, sitting quietly and wheezing loudly through his nose.

"This is the smoker, he coughs a lot, you can hear him from far distances. You can smell him too, smells kinda like.. hmm.." He paused, in thought. "Smells like wet mould and smoke. Watch for their tongue, they can catch you and wrap you from 50 feet away. They are dangerous far away, but close up they are harmless. 'specially if they miss. Hell you could beat the shit out of 'em with yer hands. After they die they explode into a cloud of nasty shit. Can't see, can't breath." He rushed the crew on, moving on to two more dead bodies.

The first had the proportion of his limbs all wrong. One large, scaled arm, and the other seemed shrivelled and weak. His legs were the same way. One was regularly portioned, while the other pressed at the fabric of the jeans. He had no hair, and not very much skin on his face to speak of. His skin was a mottled green. The other body was that of a man in a sweater. The hood had been pulled back, revealing a head with claw marks in the scalp, cheeks, ears, neck, and face. He had no eyes, only empty sockets.

He first pointed to the large armed human, wanting to rush this along. "That's a charger, they are nasty things. You can hear e'm, 'n they sound like they are trying to squeal and talk. They charge ya, and grab ya, an' keep runnin' until they hit a wall. Then they beat you to death. They aren't very hard to kill, but are dangerous. And that little shit over there-" he pointed to the un-hooded figure, no tape encircled his limbs except around his ankles, his feet were bare, and his sweater was bloody and a shredded rag. You could see parts of his pale boil covered skin from underneath the fabric. "That there is a leaper, or a hunter. They literally hunt you, and you can't hear 'em unless they are huntin' you. They growl, and then screech when they are ready to pounce. It is sure as hell difficult to knock 'em off, and they will shred every organ in your body. They hunt in packs, so never go anywhere alone. Watch for these lil' shits, and shoot 'em early."

With that the news feed cut off, returning to the reporter. His face was as pale as a sheet. "It.. appears we are.. going to go off the air. This has been Kent Thornton.. S-signing off.." He choked out the last words, swallowing thickly. He turned numbly away in his swivelling chair, slowly getting out of it and ambling out. Of view of the camera. And afterwards, the whole station started to broadcast an 'off air' image, a loud beep accompanying it.

"Well shit, isn't that just awesome." Erika murmured, rolling her eyes. "What is this, the set up for a god damn movie? I need to go to work. I'll be back later." She muttered, getting off the cough and slipping into some simple combat boots. They came a little below her knee, but were by no means a woman's shoe. They looked nice and feminine, but were the kind of army surplus boots you would expect from any other mans shoe. Steel toe, great grips, strong durable laces. After finishing her boots, she slipped on a P-coat, doing up the double breasted buttons. She looked almost like a mobster now, a black and white scarf poking out of the collar of the coat.

"Bye, see you soon Jazz." She waved, and her companion waved back, smiling mildly while changing the channel.


	2. The office is fun

She was already at the office, her hand temptingly reaching for the door handle. It was the beginning of spring, and it was just warming up. Another two weeks and you'd be able to walk around in a wife beater and not feel cold at all. The door was locked. That's odd.. It was never locked on a weekday. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a key. Maybe that news cast was real. She peeped around herself. Where was everyone? Were they all that scared?

"I have clients to get to." She muttered to herself, knowing she had three appointments until six. It was only eleven. Unlocking the door finally she stepped in, obviously the place was empty. She worked at a psychiatrist office, and was one of the fresh-out-of-school psychologists there. It was only a two year course, and she graduated the university at a fairly high ranking. She tapped her thigh, wondering what to do first.

"I am all alone! In this office! I will raid ALL OF THE THINGS." Her voice was loud, and she was purposely changing tones, making it sound more comical and dramatic. Seeming to wait for a response, she paused. After a moments wait, she dashed off, jumping up to slide herself over the counter. Not jumping high enough was a problem, as she had hesitated about it to begin with, getting stuck on the secretaries ledge. She tried to wiggle her way up, scooting and contorting herself in awkward manners, kicking everything off the little ledge. Books, pens, cups, everything came tumbling down. Finally she wiggled enough and slid over the edge, flopping unceremoniously onto another ledge and hitting the floor with a _whump! _Quickly with a clumsy stride to right herself, she stuck her hands in the air, flailing them with enthusiasm. "And she sticks the landing!"

"Now, now, now.. Miranda, you bitch of a secretary." Whipping open the drawers to her desk one by one, finally finding what she had been looking for. She screeched to herself in excitement and triumph. "I knew it! I knew she took my loot of jerky. I'm gonna totally rub my ass on everything she loves." With a quick motion she dropped the jerky, taking a yellow sticky note she drew a crude butt on it, adding a boil and a multitude of tiny hairs as well as waving lines above it, signalling a stench. Underneath it she wrote in nice lopsided cursive 'BOOTY LAND' In big bold capital letters. With a satisfied snort she stuck it to the monitor, and couldn't help but feign guilt before bursting out in a wave of laughter. Looking at her watch she sighed quietly. It was only eleven fifteen, and she had a client coming to see her at twelve-thirty. This only made her wait long and drawn-out, so with an ecstatic look she scampered to the door, sticking a 'knock first' sign as well as an 'open' sign. She pulled the blinds on the door, and on all the windows. Finally in the throes of adrenaline, she kicked her boots off, tossed her coat in the main lobby, and started to squirm out of her tight skinny pants. Tying them to her neck like a cape, she once again leaped over the counter. This time with a little more grace, her back sliding smoothly over it as she landed on the other side. Finally the undergarments came off, strapping them to her head, wearing them as a hat to complete her dorky attire.

"Leave no survivors!" she bellowed out, screaming loudly in a battle like call and jumping up onto the woman's desk, scooting her behind across it like a crazed dog. She even went so far as to jump up on the desk, nearly slipping, and rubbing her butt against the wall of her cubicle. Next was the phone, and imitating that her ass was taking a call for Miranda was the best thing since sliced bread. Tossing the phone aside she picked up the picture of Miranda and her Boyfriend, Todd. He was an ugly little bastard, short, over-combed hair. He even had one of those signature porno-staches. They were both underneath a cherry tree, and the blossoms were falling about them in a gentle rain of petals. Todd was hunched over awkwardly, his arm around the shoulder of the short woman. Grimacing she took the picture, laying it down behind herself only to plop her rump onto it.

"This picture is my vessel, as I scour this lonely desk! Oh what to do am I, While I play and make a mess." She didn't care if her singing was terrible, while she used her feet to scoot along the desk. The picture made a screeching noise, leaving scratches on the nice wood surface. Anything she could jam up her nose, she did. Pencils, pens, markers. It didn't matter, she didn't like this woman anyways. Last but not least, she rolled off into the chair that accompanied the desk, turning on the computer and bringing up as many pornographic sites as she could think of. Which were a lot. And most of the sexual practices were highly frowned upon, which made her victory that much sweeter. Finally, untying the pants and taking off her panty-hat, she got re-acquainted with her clothes. Snatching up the beef jerky to flit off to her own office. Tossing her boots and coat inside, she paused. Down the hall of the building, she could hear a rattling sound.

"Hello?" She called, listening intently. A yell was her only reply. It was someone in one of the offices, or maybe a closet, yelling and growling and bellowing at the top of his lungs. The sounds died down, and she was still highly curious. Picking up a long glass vase full of water and flowers she began treading to the source of the inhuman noises. The vase was heavy, and she dumped everything on the floor, tossing out the flowers in some random direction before hand. The water splashed across the carpet, soaking her socks. It wasn't really a problem, being overly dramatic and ridiculous was her speciality.

Socks sopping wet, she slowly traversed towards the source of the sound. The man, or thing; what ever it was, was in the back janitor closet. Wheezing could be heard from behind the door, and then a cough. It sounded like one of those things on the television. Calmly, sliding down onto her stomach, she looked underneath the door. The guy was strapped to a chair, so it seemed safe. Slowly creaking the door open, she peeped through. A pasty yellow eye peered back, the body leaning forward intently to watch her. She squeaked, and slammed the door shut for a moment.


	3. I found a wheelie chair

The adrenaline coursed through her veins, her heart thundering in her chest. It was the same kind of creature she had seen on the television. A smoker. Opening the door again, she peeked in, and once again the smoker leaned forward, his pasty reflective yellow eye looking back at her with what seemed to be intelligence. She looked him over through the sliver she could see through, and the little light it provided her. He was dressed in extremely formal clothes, they were tattered and caked in blood and dirt. Seams and little strings hang loose, tiny rips and gashes and cuts in his attire. She opened the door a little bit wider, and he seemed to enquire with a wheezed and strained cough. Little spores were everywhere, and he smelled like a mouldy musty basement. Bad smells were never a problem, as she had experienced all sorts of assaulting scents.

"Shit.." She uttered out loudly, noticing the dangling tongue as it suddenly curled and flicked impatiently. She was hoping the thing would have at least been gagged. Maybe that's why no one was at the office.. but did they honestly not have the stomach to kill him?

She closed the door again, panting slightly although she had done no physical exercise. Lifting her foot and peeling off a sock, she kicked the door open with all her might. Forgetting the door latched closed, her foot went through the flimsy wood. That probably startled the infected, and she stood there dumbfounded for a moment before trying to wrench her foot free. That wasn't a very easy task, the wood cutting into her foot wasn't very helpful either. She was stuck, and she prayed that thing in there didn't get any smart ideas and grab her foot with that tongue.

"Agh! What the fuck! You stupid door! Jackass piece of shit cunt gaping door! I hate you, door. I hate you." she hissed out, jerking her leg around frantically to try and free it. The infected could be heard wheezing for a slight moment, belting out a yell afterwards. He didn't seem to happy that someones foot was invading his personal space. A slimy thing suddenly curled around her leg, it was almost like a thick abrasive cow tongue. She frantically kicked her foot more, feeling the tongue start to violently jerk on her leg.

"Oh no you don't! You can't have my foot, it's mine! I NEED IT TO DO FEET THINGS!" She wasn't going to give up so easily, trying to fight back as much as she could. She wasn't going to let some zombie just chomp her foot through a door. What if she needed to dance, or possibly limbo, or some other ridiculous thing. She wouldn't have a foot to do it with. Slamming her foot against the door she started twisting it, grinding the tongue into the wood as well. The smoker screeched at this, and his violent pulling became twice as frantic as when he had caught her foot. He pulled harder, and soon she was starting to lose her balance. Finally she seemed to get her foot in the right position, and yanked it through the hole, the tongue still attached. With a disgusted and angered noise she pried the appendage off, throwing it back in the hole.

"Now you are in deep dookie." Her voice was steady, and low. Unlatching the door, she swung it open as hard as she could. It slammed into the things behind it, making a grand noise, while knocking various objects over. The infected snapped his head up, his ingrown-like tumours illuminating as well as his face. He was pale, and a slight green. He screamed at her, and she charged in, smacking him in the forehead with the glass vase. He made a choking noise, and was stunned for a good while. With her newly opened time slot, she jammed the balled up sock into his mouth, which seemed slightly ineffective because his tongue was hanging out. So she grabbed that too, holding onto it while scuttling like a loose crab to find some sort of tape. A role of duct tape was perfect, and she promptly fastened his tongue to his own arm. She had used her time effectively, as the smoker started to fall from his stunned state, realizing what had happened. He struggled and screamed at her, clenching his hands tightly while coughing and wheezing from his discontented screeches.

"Jazz totally has to see this." Her mind was elsewhere when she looked down at the chair, wondering how she would push this captive around. Finally, placing her hands on the creatures shoulders, and the lumps underneath, she gave a great shove. Expecting that the chair would be stuck into place, she pushed with much force, only to flop right over, the chair wheeling down the hallway. It was a four legged wheeled chair. What a miracle. Now she really could show Jazz. Running into her office she grabbed her coat, tossing it onto his head. He struggled, and shook his head from side to side, trying to dismount the coat blocking his vision. Grabbing her Jerky and slipping on her boots, she took a moment to hork a large mouthful of phlegm onto Miranda's desk. God she hated Miranda.

It took her almost ten minutes to wheel that bastard to the car. He was tall, and heavy. She was short, but at least strong. Finally getting to the car, she opened the trunk, simply tipping the chair back and rolling him in. He didn't need to be upright, so who cared? He protested wildly, screaming and yelling and wheezing at her. Once again she repositioned her coat on his head. Maybe he would just think it's night and go to sleep like birds do. Quickly she slammed the trunk door, leaving the smoker on his side, tied to a chair. She rushed to the front, fumbling with her keys in the ignition from excitement. Finally starting the car, she slammed on the gas. The tires screeched loudly, drowning out the smoker for a few moments while she ripped out of the parking lot. As she sped away, she let out a loud excited yell, like the one a horse-rider would yell as he galloped away or roped a cow.

After driving like a speed demon for a good twenty minutes, she arrived at her apartment complex. People were flooding out, and soon the whole lobby was just empty. Were people that terrified? Well of course they were, Erika had the proof to be scared right in her trunk, strapped to a chair. Bringing the car to a smooth stop in front of the main lobby doors, she turned it off, taking the keys. Jumping out and excitedly opening the trunk, she greeted her captive with an overly enthusiastic psychotic smile. Rolling and manoeuvring him out, she wheeled him as fast as she could to the first floor door. Thankfully her apartment was on the main lobbies floor, and she didn't have to risk meeting any do-gooder's in the elevator. Finally wheeling the infected all the way to her door, she opened the door in an excited whimsy.

"Jazz!" She peeped, wheeling in the captive smoker first, pointing down to him and jerking her hand multiple times to emphasis what he was. "Look what I got!" She called out, pointing to him more frantically.

"Jesus! ERIKA WHAT ARE YOU DOING." Jazz's arms flailed, and he nearly flopped off the couch. He held the remote in front of his face, a meagre form of protection. Erika scoffed at him, waving her hand sarcastically.

"Pshaw, he's strapped to a chair! I taped his tongue to his arm, and he's got a dirty sock in his mouth, eh." She swept her arm down in front of the smoker, displaying her handy work. He screeched at her and shrank back, squinting his eye as he leaned away from her hand.

"Oh. Cool, so he's harmless? Are we going to tote him around? He's so ugly he's cute." Jazz leaned forward a little bit, still wavering on the unsafe side. Erika kicked the door closed, wheeling their new companion to the middle of the room, the chair squeaking. Her two cats were awake, and scampered in, curiously sniffing and rubbing against the new visitor. The one Calico kitten, Bacon, leaped up onto the monsters lap, meowing at him and batting at his chest. While the black kitten, Streaky, was perfectly occupied with attacking the leg of his pants.

"Aw, they like him." Jazz said, smiling slightly while the tiny animals played with the new comer.


	4. I'm stuck to a chair

"You think He feels pain?" One of the meatbags spoke up, her voice light and feminine. I jerked back, trying to squeeze out a yell from behind this filthy thing in my mouth. My lungs burned from all the noise I was making, and I convulsively coughed in pain. She reached her pale hand out towards me, making me panic as I frantically tried to squirm out of her touch. Her fingers clasped onto my skin that was free of any deformities, and pinched it roughly between her fingers. I snarled raggedly at her, a yell-like cough becoming muffled by the fabric in my mouth as I attempted to jerk and pull my arm away. I didn't enjoy being pinched, and as she jerked her hands away in a slight awe, I could feel my skin burn and tingle. A slight red mark started to develop, and I could feel as it pulsed in a dull pain.

"So he does feel pain.." She murmured to the meatbag on the couch. It was easy to tell the genders between them, at least I could remember that much. I knew there was one female and a male, and that I as well was a male. I barely ever understood them, or rarely paid attention, I did not care. I only lived now to satisfy myself and my hunger. The female leaned back in, staring at me. I stared back, feeling as if she were pulling my dominance into question. I decided to continue this contest of staring for dominance, unblinking and refusing to turn away until she would. Yet, she never did turn away, possibly assuming the same thing as I had, staring for a fight for dominance. Finally she had agitated me enough, and I jerked my body forward, yelling at her face. It was still loud, although muffled. The female jumped back slightly, surprised I had done that, and as she continued to watch with surprise and fear I relished in my victory of dominance. I glared at her, eyebrows furrowed in anger and face crinkled as I tried to lift my lip to show my teeth. I had only adopted doing this because I had seen it preformed by the hooded idiots multiple times, and it seemed effective in pronouncing dominance. She cocked her head, Turning back to the hot-breather on the cough.

"Dude these zombies are totally dominance oriented." Her voice was nice to hear, although I didn't care for her babble.

"How can you get that from one staring contest? What if he's just hungry?" The other cocked his head, a look of worry on his features.

"If he was hungry he would be lunging at me non-stop." She hissed back, lifting her hands above her head and forming claws with her fingers. A growl seemed to emanate from her throat, and she started to teeter back and forth, stomping forward. Was she one of my own kind and I hadn't known it? I growled at her act, letting the growl rumble on to a dull roar, almost a purr. The breather whirled around, dropping her hands to her sides to gawk at me.

"Did he just.. purr?" the other hot-blooded one asked, peeking his head over and around the female. I was agitated, and it was only now I noticed little creatures by my feet, tugging at my pants. They were warm covered in fur, and very, very small. The female watched me, and scooped up one of the small things. In doing so her top cloth dipped down, and I could see down it, see her stomach and her breasts, and the thing covering the top of her torso. My body suddenly felt as if I was on the hunt, dragging a victim away with my tongue. But it wasn't the exact same feeling. I didn't know why this thrilled me, made me feel as if I was on fire, but in a good feeling. She leaned back up, and my view of her stomach and covered breasts was obstructed by the black clothing. I felt disappointed and angry that I couldn't keep lapping up the view with my inclined sharp sight. I let out a frustrated growl, jerking towards her to glare slightly. Why had the sight of her skin thrilled me so much? It angered me that I didn't know, as the clockwork of my mind was sick and fogged.

"This is Bacon, He's just a baby." Listening to both of their soft voices was like being able to find shelter amidst a rain storm, or the feeling of satisfying my needs. The female thrust upon me the furry animal, as if to present it to me. I eyed it carefully, taking in a deep breath that sounded strained and wheeze-filled. The creature had a nice scent to it, mingling with other scents I didn't recognize. Perhaps these other scents were from the pair who had so feverishly been occupied with me. The little animal was close enough to tilt its head towards me. It didn't seem as a threat, being so small as it was so I sat still, watching it with curiosity. It's face bumped against mine, and a low purr emanated from it's body. I recognized the purr as something positive and inquisitive, and returned it with my own gravelled and ragged voice. She placed the little thing in my lap where it curled up, purring and mewling as she ran her hand across it's back and head. I watched it cautiously. I was still unsure of these warm ones, the others of their kind were violent and constantly had treated me with hostility. I'm certain it didn't help that I had hungered for their warm flesh, and to stop their insidious panics, struggles, and agitating noises. Once again the female bent down to fetch another one of the small animals, and once again I could see the expanses of her stomach and breasts. The feeling started to return, and I began to feel hot-blooded. My mind had started to conjure strange and alien images to me. I didn't know what they meant, but they propelled the heat in my body, continuing the pleasurably warm feeling coursing through me. Quite suddenly, the other prey began to stir. At first a splutter, and then he erupted in a wave of laughter. This sound was almost new to me, and I reeled back slightly. It was harsh, but also inviting and uplifting. I couldn't possibly understand or begin to comprehend why this made me feel alarmed and soothed at the same time. The female stood back up, but I was less angered about losing my view that I had before. My attention was now on the other individual who was roaring with laughter, snorts, and poorly contained giggling.

"What?" she inquired, looking at him, her back to me. The sooth-sayer looked from myself to the male, and then back to me. She repeated her question, cocking her head.

"He's got a fucking boner!" He held his middle, still rippling with the giggles and snorts. "He's pitching a god damn tent in his pants! He was totally looking down your shirt! He saw them nice titties and now he's pitching a tent! Hahahaha!" He continued to roar with this sound, the sound both harsh and nice.

"He's wha?" She asked, slightly awestruck and dumbfounded. "Jazz! Zombies can't pitch tents! It's gotta be.. uh... it's.. uhm.. IT'S RIGOR MORTIS." She pointed a finger of accusation at the male, and he simply roared out with another wave of laughter. I didn't understand this back and forth, but it was calming, and I felt I was beginning to enjoy their company. Perhaps I could stay with these meat sacks for a while. I didn't feel as lonely as I had on my own, migrating to this colder place. All the others had gone south, and I had gone north, hoping there would be more prey here. The female wheeled around once more, and stared at me. Or, not really at me, but at my stomach, or so I thought. Her eyes were wide and blank, a deer caught in the headlights. Her mouth started to tug upwards, into something of a smile and she struggled to hold in the noises she was producing. She jerked her arm up, clapping it over her lips tightly. Snorts escaped her nostrils and her eyes closed as her cheeks lifted in the smile. "Oh my god! He totally does!" She too held her middle with her free hand, both of them resonating with these sounds. Eventually they quieted down, making jokes about something I didn't care to understand. I could hear something behind me, it sounded like when those metal orbs on the shields of wood was turned. I didn't hear anything there, only a loud pounding and an angry voice that sounded muffled and far away.

"Snags!" the male leaped up, rushing to the door while signalling to the female. She gripped my shoulders, and pushed the moving device I was attached to into another room. I looked around, making a curious sound in my throat that erupted more as a cough then anything else. The feed bag clamped her hand over my mouth and out hanging tongue, which was fastened to my arm. I squirmed, yelling and shrieking at her from behind her hand and the foul tasting fabric in my mouth.

"Shh! Shut up! Shut up! Shhhhhhhh!" Her hand was pressed tightly to my mouth, and it began to pinch my tongue. I struggled more, yelling and shrieking and coughing at her. When telling me to 'shut up' failed, she snarled in my ear quietly, growling deeply in her own throat. "Shush." she said smoothly, her head next to mine. Her eye was focused on me, and I attempted to move away from being so close to her, uncomfortable with the proximity. My mind had brought up the feeling of what this word 'shush' had meant, and what it produced was calm and soothing ones. It was a sound that required for silence. I still tried to stretch away from her, but my shrieks and yells quieted, and I placed myself in silence. The grip on my mouth started to loosen, and the pain in my tongue vanished. She wasn't going to move, and the close proximity was getting on my nerves, as well as making my neck sore from stretching away from her. The breather snorted, spored going up her nose and bumping into her face. Slowly, I relaxed my neck, seating myself straight, her head exceptionally close to my face where most of my senses resided.

"Good. Now be quiet.." she murmured to me, but I didn't quiet understand. I remembered that 'good' was a word of praise, and in this a feeling a slight accomplishment began to pool in my stomach. I took this opportunity to acquaint myself with this creatures scent, turning my head in towards her neck and breathing deeply. The growl in her throat came back, and she leaned away from me. Lifting her lip she bared her teeth, which evoked a response of discontent and hostility from within myself. I let out a type of quiet warning to her, leaning away as she had. The other male seemed to be keeping what ever danger it was busy, and the fluid sound of laughter and speech could be constantly heard.

"What was that." Some unknown voice was here, among these other two meatbags.

"Nothing, Erika being weird, you know how it is, Snags." The males voice was starting to become familiar, easily identifiable.

"Some guy tried to bite me on my way back from the corner store! He was stumbling around everywhere like he was drunk, and when I asked him if he was okay he started yelling like a psycho! I punched him in the face and just ran all the way back."

"but you didn't get bit right?"

"no."

"Okay good." The male huffed, sounding greatly relieved.

"Why? Is there something going on? Is there an AIDS epidemic or something?" the unknown voice sounded skeptical, and before I could regain my bearings the female removed her hand, disappearing from my side and my sight. I jerked around, trying to see her, feeling suddenly angry and alarmed that she had so readily left me. Why did I feel this way? This want of her and the male to be around me, to be in their presence. These feelings were confusing to no end. Perhaps those leaping idiots travelled in packs for a reason. Is this what they felt when they were together? I would never be able to completely figure it out.

"Yeah, it's an aids epidemic, a SUPER AIDS. Everyone is all sick with that green flu! They all turn into nasty zombies or something." I could identify the females voice, and the anger rose in my gut again. She had struck me with a hard object, and then tossed me into a hulking moving thing. Both those actions angered me, but I had to at least be thankful that she removed me from that dark awful closet. I had thoughts that I was to rot away from starvation there.

"What do you mean 'zombies.'"

"Well, I mean like, teeth gnashing motherfuckers who want to just eat you flesh and they moan and yell and stuff?"

"So you mean you're being serious."

"Yes? Of course I am, would I joke about the zombie apocalypse?"

"I don't know..do you have any proof?"

"Of course I have proof! Come to the kitchen." The female started tugging this unknown individual along, when the struggling whines of the male could be heard.

"Hnn but Erika nooo.." The male whined out, dancing around in anxiety while the female tugged the newcomer into the kitchen. She pulled the tall hot-breath in front of me. I looked at this new creature with curiosity, until it let out a sound of disgust and anguish at me. Had I done something wrong? Surely I could not have given this new creature a reason to be offended.

"WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT? WHAT IS IT? HE SMELLS." This new breather was loud, it's sounds harsh and violent. I yelled back at it, still slightly muffled.

"It's a smoker! See I told you we're in a zombie apocalypse." The female seemed proud, standing on her tiptoes and puffing her chest out.

"ARGH! I'm gong to get my shit and then I'm waiting in the car! I want to get out of here if this is actually happening. Why are you two just sitting in this apartment playing with a zombie? If this is the end of the world shouldn't we, Y'know, BE GOING SOME WHERE SAFE?" This new creature was definitely loud, and I bellowed out another yell, almost trying to hush it and it's piercing voice. It stomped out, making angered growls and noises as it clattered and tripped on certain things, finally slamming the door behind it. I jumped in surprise from the loud noise, looking around frantically.

"Hey man, While snags waits in the car, let's see what's on the news, maybe it came back on while I was at work?" I still enjoyed the female's and male's voice greatly. Why was I so comfortable, I wasn't hungry, so perhaps that was why I didn't have the urge to assault these two. Or perhaps it was that delicious feeling of burning that the female could evoke from me. What ever it was, I didn't mind being in their presence as the female once again put her hands on my shoulders, pushing me out into the room I had once occupied.

"I was napping so it's worth a shot." The male sounded exhausted, and faulting down onto the cough he picked up some long rectangular object, pointing it towards something else. A box on the other side of the room flicked on, displaying multiple images at once. He passed through channels, and eventually came to a news broadcast.

"Hey! It's on!" the female pointed frantically, towards the box of images. Some heat-breather on this box was speaking about evacuation points set up through out contaminated provinces. What ever that meant, I did not know. "Y'know, I don't really want to go.. I don't like the sound of those evac stations, 'rounding up survivors' What if they do government tests on them or something."

"Yooo, I never thought of that! What are we going to do? It's not like we have many alternatives."

"We could always.. hm.." she pondered for a moment, wandering slowly around the room. "I KNOW! My grandmother owns a farm, it's HUGE! 300 acres all to ourselves, remember I used to live there?"

"Oh yeah, I remember that.."

"Well, why not book it over there!

"But what about Snags, I want her to be safe, not being a boob with us."

"Well, let's putter around in the car, and when we find a group of survivors, we'll convince her to go with them, and then we can boob away."

"Sounds like a plan to me." The male seemed happy, and flicking off the image box, I witnessed them high-five. I yelled at them, as I thought they were fighting. Instead they both turned, and suddenly vacated the premisses. I was alarmed, and suddenly alone. I struggled against my bindings, and felt my arm become loose in it's bindings. I jerked it out, just as the door closed and locked. Ripping the balled up fabric out of my mouth I yelled for them, screaming and screeching. Willing them to come back. Why was I so attached all of a sudden? Was I that afraid to be alone? Perhaps. I screamed as loudly as my lungs would allow, coughing violently afterwards. I clawed at my other bindings, jerking violently at the ropes until my other arm was free, ripping the sticky binding that fastened my tongue to my arm. I attempted to stand, only to nearly fall to the side, quickly seating myself once more to kick my legs at attempted freedom. Finally after many attempts and no success, I leaned down clawing and jerking at the bindings on my legs until they too came loose. These flesh sacks hadn't done a very good job in containing me. Finally standing up, I knocked the chair over. I was still greatly enraged and hurt about my new companions leaving me, making me feel alone. A pain I had never felt before. I ravaged the living room, the kitchen as well. Finally I came to a large white object, and I banged my fists against it, clawing at the corners. The thing popped open, and I jumped, yelling at it and smacking it with my fist. Pain shot through my palms, and the door bounced off the frame, widening back open. I knocked things over, hitting them with my tongue over as well. I had noticed something, these things that I had knocked over tasted delicious. Sweet, cold. Other things were salty, and soon I felt hunger rise in my gut. But if I was hungry, how had it subsided around those two creatures? They had made me feel calm after I had learned they would not harm me. My stomach clenched again in pain, and I picked up anything I had knocked over, my tongue slinking back within my body to some extent as I pushed the bits of food between my lips, numbly trying to chew them with my tongue in the way. The furry animals the female had shown me from before came bounding up at my sides, and shared my meal. I felt as if these little animals and I were a pack, like those leaping brothers of mine who always ran in packs. They must feel like this, belonging. I would probably entirely never know what this feeling really meant, but I liked it, and I wanted it to continue on. I ate until full, and then simply sat against the cupboards, closing the white door of the fridge to stop the cold. I basked in the lavish love of the kittens, as the crawled and played over me, squeaking at me in their soft voices. I imitated the female and pet the little animals, to which they curled up. Perhaps if the two creatures returned, more feelings would come. Companionship.


	5. I can drive fast fast

"Hey man after we drop Snags off let's pick up all the loot we can, Guns, cereal, a lot of underwear, bags of deodorant, food. I don't want to get scared and suddenly shit myself, and then turn back to look in my bag and suddenly go 'oh my god Jazz I have no underpants what do.' I mean seriously, that would be terrible."

"How are you a psychologist."

"I just am."

"Do you even help your clients?"

"Yes."

".. You don't do a good job do you."

"I DO A GREA-... no."

"That's what I thought." Jazz rolled his eyes and chuckled gently to himself as the grabbed handfuls of candy from the front desk bowl. No one was there, at all. They could just simply ransack all the apartments if they so pleased. Finally leaving the empty building, Jazz turned, hearing the screams from the smoker. He ignored them simply, continuing on his way and tugging on the sleeve of Erika who also stopped to listen to his pleas of pain and anguish. Leaving the front doors, they clicked shut behind them and beeped once, locking them out. Only Erika carried a key, as the last one to have the second key was Jazz, and he had knocked it down into the toilet during his nightly bathroom routine. It was only after he had flushed that he realized where the key was, and that it was to never be seen again. Finally the pair rounded to the car, and before simply jumping in, Erika called out to him, taking the keys out of her pocket and tossing them to him.

"I want you to drive, I feel like it's important to make a checklist of shit we might need and unlikely places we can ransack. I mean, I studied human and animal behaviour, I can find all those secret hiding holes for treasure." Jazz nodded at her, coming to the drivers side as the female who had tossed him the keys entered the backseat behind the drivers side. As soon as the male entered the car, his partner immediately assaulted him with subtle yet biting questions.

"What took you so long." Her eyes were slightly squinted, her arms folded across her chest as she huffed. Jazz slipped the keys in the ignition, starting the dark blue van in a low purr before pulling out slowly and carefully.

"We had to put down the zombie bro." Erika had answered for him, and thank god, Jazz didn't want to have to answer and then crash from doing something less then graceful.

"So, where are we going to go?" Snaggie asked, cocking her head back towards Erika.

"We find a group of travelling hobos and join them if they haven't hopped in stolen cars yet."

"Oh." Snags looked vaguely out the window, leaning against the door while propping up her head on her hand in boredom. They were just barely on the highway, and it was empty, save for a few passing and speeding cars. Jazz yelped when they whizzed by, and he slowed down to a crawl.

"Jazz! It's the end of the world! DRIVE LIKE A BAT OUT OF HELL!" Erika smacked him lightly in the side of the head with a rolled up magazine, causing Jazz to slam his foot down on the gas in panic. The car lurched forward, gaining speed before continuing at a steady fast pace.

"Ah! What if I crash, what if I crash, what if I crash, WHAT IF WE DIE!" He shrieked out, Snaggie gripping the door tightly while making an uneasy whining sound in her throat.

"Nah! Just chill, be focused but not on edge and you'll be fine." Erika patted his shoulder reassuringly while giving him a warm and sincere smile. Finally they entered another part of town, after the long stretch of highway had gone on and on. This town was in panic, and there were huge separated groups of people. They walked along, melee weapons and guns slung haphazardly across their backs. A majority of them carried large back packs, guns in hand.

"Are they going to safety?" Snaggie perked up, watching as the huge masses of people weaved around the empty cars. A buss had flipped over, blocking the only way out of the town from this way. Mass hysteria had occurred, and now these people travelled together, arms around the injured, and heavy coats around the sick.

"Snags, Get out of the car." Erika said simply, half lidded eyes and raised brows watching her with quiet patience.

"What." Snaggie screwed her face up, looking at the woman in the back seat.

"Go with the other survivors, they are in big groups now. If something attacks, stay in the middle. Animals pick off the furthest ones away, and stay away from the sick, they might have this flu." Erika still looked at her with a simply bored, calm, and distant look. Her vocabulary could be greatly enhanced when it really mattered, and right now it mattered.

"Snaggie, we decided to stay here." Jazz said, looking over at his partner with a painful fondness.

"You can't be serious, this could be your salvation! We can be saved, and live happily!" Snaggie clenched her fists in anger, gritting her teeth tightly.

"Snaggie, go, I want you to be safe, but I can't go with you."

"Why the hell not." Snaggie once again screwed her face up, this time pinning her violent gaze at Jazz.

"We're..." Jazz gulped, choking on what to say next. What should he tell her? That he didn't trust the government so he was sending Snaggie to go with them? Erika pipped up, clearing her throat to give a reason when the silence stretched on. He hoped this was good.

"We're sick. You can't stay with us." She said cooly, her cold, calm and calculating gaze piercing Jazz's partners, defeating her glare. She leaned back slightly, scooting back. "Take this." Erika said softly, reaching into a bag on the car floor. It was full of antique knives. She pulled out a knife that was brand new, she had bought it and tossed it in there out of impulse. It was nice, a switch blade. Decent size, at least a weapon for her. Snaggie reached out, curling her hand around it. Her face softened, it seemed Erika's lie had been god bait, and she was accepting it. This was good. The new owner of the switch blade smiled faintly, her eyes forming crystals of tears.

"Thank you.." she murmured, looking up when Jazz placed his hands on hers, giving them a squeeze.

"I love you." He said gently, catching a tear on his finger and wiping it away. "You'll survive, and we want you to be safe. In retrospect I guess catching a zombie wasn't a very good idea, huh?" He laughed softly, and Snaggie make a choked off 'no', shaking her head slightly. She breathed deeply, gasping quietly as her nasal cavity started to fill with drain from her eyes. Slowly, she opened the door, unbuckling her belt. Jazz, at all this time, held onto her hand, and as she finally got out of the car their hands disconnected. She waved at the pair, running ahead to catch up with the masses, disappearing in the crowds.

"You alright Jazz?" His companion leaned forward, seat belt off. He nodded slightly, not shedding a tear but feeling torn and empty. It hadn't really sunk in yet what had just happened. "Shove over, crawl to the passengers seat." she said, tapping his shoulder eagerly. "I'M SPIDER MAN, AND IM TAKING CONTROL OF THIS THREAD." Jazz choked out a laugh, tumbling into the passenger seat. Erika awkwardly and ungracefully slid into the drivers seat, manoeuvring around everything. Finally she seated herself properly, and putting it into reverse, she slammed down, backing up hastily before taking off in a fury. She yelled out psychotically and stuck her head out the window, screeching loudly like she was a prehistoric reptile. Something replied to her shriek, and a shirtless pale grey man leaped out in front of the car. Erika was surprised by this, and slammed on the breaks, a scream escaping her throat as she pulled her head back in. Both of them got a nasty case of whiplash, holding their necks and making pained noises, crinkling their faces. Jazz was the first to get out, and Erika followed.

"Oh man you hit some bloody guy."

"I am totally going to get sued for this. This has LAWSUIT written ALL OVER!" She shrieked out, panicking and pacing. Finally she rolled over the man onto his back, and he seemed to splutter. He was alive, and she jumped back. It was one of those things, the eyeless ones.

"Oh man hey it's that hunter thing!" Jazz put his hands in his pockets, bending over slightly to look at the fallen man on his back. The creature stirred, and screeched, waking up more fully.

"AHH HOLY FUCK!" Erika shrieked back at the thing, bringing her fist up in fear and punching him in the middle of the face with force. He spluttered for a moment, before passing out.

"Erika! What did you do?"

"I punched him!"

"WHY!"

"He's scary!"

"Hey yooooooo let's take him home, you already have a smoker thing. I want this guy." They looked at each other and paused.

"Alright, get him in the car I have duct tape in the trunk from when I had to fix the van."

"Sweet!"


	6. So black, Always black

Everything was black. So black, black all the time. But this was a different black, where am I? I recognize that smell, it's the noisy prey, not my kind. I thought I heard my kind, I leaped to greet my kind. Something hit me, mustn't be my kind. What was I doing before everything was a different black. Oh yes, I was hunting, hunting the warm ones. I was hungry.

This new place smelled different then where I was before. Not as warm either, I shiver at night as my stomach rumbles behind my furs. How long ago did I get here? I think it was many hot weathers and cold sleeps, perhaps a week or two. Everything here didn't like food, and not so good food. It smelled like warm ones, everything smelt like the warm ones. I was hungry, I wanted to hunt. I followed my nose, and caught a little warm one. My stomach was filled, I was content now. It was colder then what I'm used to, my lower furs didn't stick to me as much anymore. My stomach was full, I had gone to sleep off my kill. I searched for a long time, following my nose to find a place to stay. I found a small cave, there were not my kind in the cave. They had a funny scent, not like warm ones, and not my kind. They must be another type of food. I was tired, and wanted to sleep. I challenged the creature in the little cave, and it called back. I charge forward, ready to battle for this new territory, but the creature ran out, and I felt it bump into me. What a tiny rival it was. I claimed my new cave, rubbing my cheek and shoulder against the walls of the dry warm little cave. I sleep now.

I woke up after a while, hungry again. Stretching I felt my stiff body crack, I was limber now. Call, wait, listen. I knew where to go now. Slowly I made my way out of this shaded area, Time to hunt again. There were no challengers here, I could claim any territory I wanted.

All these memories were many hot weathers past, I had been on the hunt and heard a female call out. I could claim more territory with a pack member. I call, and leaped to the female, only to be hit by something big. Was it a big angry that hit me? My side hurts, I try to get up quickly, trying to recover to fight. I smell warm ones, and I warn loudly. Something hits me hard in the head, everything turns black. So black. Not the black I'm used to.

I dream about hunting, and something about being healthy. I see pictures of warm ones, why do I see pictures? Are they me? I growl at them, and they vanish. I feel like I'm moving, but not moving. I don't feel my arms and legs move, I just feel like I'm moving. I see a picture of a female. The picture is blurry, and I also see another male. I also growl at these pictures, but they do not go away. I feel warm inside, not like being warm, not heat, but fuzzy and happy. I feel like this when I look at the male, and at the female. Suddenly things start getting violent, I'm getting tossed around, it's hard to balance.

I wake up, and the pictures are gone. I'm not in the black that I don't know, I'm in the black I'm familiar with. I'm surrounded by the smell of warm ones and metal and other things I don't know. These warm ones are talking loudly, and my head hurts. It hurts a lot. What happened? I stay quiet, I don't want these warm ones to hear me. I try to move, pull my arm up to jump and slash at them. I'm stuck, Why am I stuck. I stop moving, and the floor lurches forward. The warm ones get out, and then I can feel a breeze on my face. Something grabs me, and I scream. It was a warm one that grabbed me, I could smell them. It screamed back at me, and hit me in the cheek. My cheek hurts now.

The two warm ones put something over my mouth, and I'm lifted. They struggle with my weight, and I fight against them, trying to get free. I am dumped into something grated and cold, it's metallic and makes an irritating sound. I squirm in this metal box with holes. I hear something turned and open, and I hear coughing. My kind, I hear my kind. I call from behind the thing on my mouth, and am quickly pushed back. I hear one of those wooden walls close, the ones I regularly claw through. One of the warm ones touches my head gently, pets me. I growl, but they keep petting me. It feels nice, and I calm, purring gently. I still want to hunt these warm ones, but being touched like this is nice. I will maybe keep these warm ones, if I don't die first.


	7. I'll smeck you

"Oh man he's out of the chair." Jazz jerked the shopping cart back, where they had dumped the hunter. Erika closed the door in haste, they shouldn't be making so much noise. Everyone may have vacated, but they didn't know that. Cautiously, she opened the door again, waving at Jazz slightly.

"Stay here Jazz.."

"But what if you die!" He whined frantically.

"I'll be fine!" She hissed back softly, creaking the door open and stepping in. Jazz was nervous about this. The smoker wasn't tied to the chair, something was wrong. He must be loose, and now Erika was going to die a horrible and grisly death. His anxiety could only be comforted by petting the greasy hair of the captive hunter, and soon he heard the creature purring. Looking down in slight surprise, he slowly removed the tape, careful not to hurt him. The hunter seemed to contemplate fighting, but instead casually sniffed his hand before growling gently. Jazz took that as a warning, and went back to petting his head. The purring in his chest returned, causing Jazz to sigh in relief.

Erika slowly let the door close, it slowly slid back leaving only a crack to safety. It left only a small margin for Jazz to dive in and help her if she were to be attacked.

Hell, she had taken the damn guy prisoner, hit him in the head with a vase.

He must be pissed.

'I'm going to die.' she thought to herself, straining her ears. She was an excellent sneak, used to slinking around and being silent. She liked to think herself somewhat of a predator, and enjoyed occasionally going on forest walks simply to see if she could stalk people successfully. She could, and it only affirmed her confidence and cockiness. She listened hard, her eyebrows furrowing slightly while her eyes opened widely, her head on a swivel as she snuck around. She slowly got past the door, peering down the hallway to the bathroom. Everything was so quiet. The whole apartment still stank of him, that mouldy smell, Where was he? She peeped around more, slowly skittering forward. She didn't bother to look to the kitchen, assuming he would have already struck if he was there. She started to maker her way to the bedrooms and bathroom, only to have some huge wriggling rope coil around her slickly.

"Well, I found him." she called to Jazz, who answered with an eager 'yeah?'

"Where is he?" Jazz enquired.

"He's.. chill." she said uneasily, trying to keep a calm, cool, collected, and above all bored tone of voice. If she was going to die now, she didn't want Jazz rushing in to try and be the hero, only to die too. That would be bad. She didn't squirm much, calmly walking and leaning back, almost enjoying being pulled. He had caught her around the lower waist, closer to her hips. She just seemed to be lazily lounging as he pulled, slowly walking while resisting slightly to make him work. It was very plausible that he was confused by this, as most victims of his tongue and strangulation were always squirming and fighting frantically to escape.

"Do you need any help?" Jazz called back, continuing a nervous and shaky pace of his hand sweeping motion over the hunters head. He was still idly purring, letting his empty sockets sag as the eye lids didn't fully close. It didn't have anything to close over anyways.

"Maybe." She said calmly, trying to muster up as much apathy as possible. 'The world has gone to hell, we are all going to die anyways' she continued to repeat to herself, watching as she was slowly dragged closer and closer. Jazz stood up in a straighter posture, feeling anxious and antsy. He scooted forward, letting his hand drop from the hunter. The creature rumbled in protest, but he stayed closer to the crack in the door, hearing the smoker pull in his prey. "If I start screaming and dying just take the liberty to break in and start shooting rainbows at his face, tall people hate rainbows because they hit' em in the face when they walk outside."

"O-okay.. I'll try." Jazz stuttered out. He tried to peek through the crack, but only stood still, almost too scared to clamour in. Maybe Erika did have this under control. He slowly started to shamble back to the hunter in the grocery cart, but decided against it. Instead he simply sat on his ass, laying on his back after sighing loudly, staring at the ceiling as if it was gay pay-per view porn.

While Jazz waited patiently, Erika was finally face to face with the enormously tall man. He stood at a good height, 6'8", looming over her short form. She was only 5', she was screwed. Hell, they both were screwed, Jazz only stood at 5'3". They were both short, and these two captive sick men towered easily over them. She looked up at him, nearly shaking in her boots. She wondered vaguely if the virus allowed them to smell fear. He probably couldn't, but the eyeless one might be able to smell fear. The smell of the smoker was almost over powering, and she refrained from breathing through her mouth. She would much rather get spores through her nose, then have to taste his smell. It wasn't that bad, but still a little overpowering. It was more along the lines of someone who just stank in general, he smelled terribly of body odour and rot, and god knows what else was on him. He was growling deeply, his face twisted in rage as he heaved raggedly. His shoulders were squared, his head bent down slightly, making him look more menacing. Like the predator he was. She was probably shaking in his grasp, which must have gave him the momentum and confidence he seemed to be carrying with him. His coughs were few and short between, he was too much in a sour mood to care about coughing right now. They had left him, alone, and angry. He never wanted that to happen again, and would show them the result if they were to abandon him. Erika watched as his arm raised, holding it up at a high and harsh angle. She braced herself, and his arm swung down violently as she pulled her head closer to her shoulders and shut her eyes tightly.

His hand connected with her face, making a satisfying sound, and as he continued the motion, he dug his nails into her skin. He left beautiful marks of red on her cheek, and raising the same arm, he back handed her. The other arm came up, slapping her across the cheek and leaving scratches as well, some of them oozing blood subtly. Quickly drawing his hand back up, he gripped her chin violently, crushing his fingers into her face and digging his nails into her skin. She squinted her eyes slightly, feeling the pain course through her body. This was nothing, the pain almost felt good, it was a feeling she needed to remind herself that these things were actually happening. It probably didn't help that she was a masochist by nature, able to withstand huge amounts of pain from doing idiotic stunts on her own or with friends. He screamed at her roughly, his free hand clawing down her collar bone, shoulder and neck. His own violent gaze was countered by a glare from her, and she stayed quiet, only grunting or yelping occasionally from bring scratches as he started to draw blood.

Jazz was in after he heard the yell, kicking the door in and charging at him, yelling colourful words at the infected. Just as he went in to kick the smoker in the knees, his arm drew back, and punched the boy straight in the face, right in the nose. He reeled back, flopping to the side like a stunned fish. His hands shot to his face as pain tingled through him, his mind spinning as the nerves fired off. He didn't know zombies could punch. Holding his nose while his head throbbed, he felt something warm trickle through his fingers. What was it? Reaching his tongue up he tasted blood. Sweet and metallic. That son of a bitch had drawn blood! Jazz held his nose painfully, sitting up numbly while slowly crawling to the smoker to attempt another rescue. Blood dripped on the floor, and he began smearing it with the knees of his pants as he crawled along. Just as he started to near the creature, the smoker kicked him away with force in the ribs and he tumbled back, coughing and in pain.

"I tried" He whimpered out weakly, holding himself while crawling to some other part of the room.

Erika simply took what he threw at her, a slap to the face, a hand on her throat to attempt to choke her air supply, bloody shallow scratches on her neck or shoulders. As he was about to bring down another hand across her cheek something hit him in the head. Something big and heavy. It was a jug of half empty juice. Erika recognized that juice box, it had gone rotten a few months ago, and she never bothered to throw it out. She made a disgusted sound in her throat when it hit him with the cap open, spraying and soaking them both with the rotten elixir. It was chunky with bacteria, and stunk worse then both the hunter and the smoker combined. She gagged in her throat as she felt it slide over her neck and off her left shoulder. The smoker was taken aback, and his tongue snapped off while he was in the process of gritting his teeth angrily. She tumbled down in a frenzy, hitting her head on the floor with much force. The room spun, the room spun violently. She saw spots in the corners of her vision, and as Jazz nursed his wounds in triumph, the smoker got up, and crawled onto her. The beast straddled her waist, arms raised aggressively. He yelled in her face, blood dripping onto her cheeks and neck from his ripped off tongue. He brought another hand up, seeming to calm drastically, only to swing it down towards her cheek.

Jazz screeched at him, and he became distracted, his hand veering off course and instead hitting her breast with a smaller amount of force then anticipated. He froze for a moment, staring at Jazz as his hand rested on the females chest. He could feel those same feelings return. Burning up on the inside. He seemed to have found himself, letting his hand rest idly on her breast as she tried to recover from hitting her head. It was highly unlikely that she had a concussion, but righting herself seemed more difficult then she could understand. Jazz watched them, a hockey puck at ready if the smoker decided to continue his assault. He dropped his other hand, resting both of them upon her breasts. It seemed that the feeling he was receiving over powered his need to kill and his anger. He rolled off, cowering back in the corner of the kitchen by the fridge, where he had fallen asleep. He held his hand to his mouth, blood dribbling through his fingers and dripping onto the fancy black vest he bore.

Jazz seemed to have recovered completely, feeling compelled to bring the new captive in and seal themselves here until their new companions could either adjust, or they could kill them. Dragging the shopping cart in, he closed the door, locking it. The hunter was asleep, seeming exhausted from his previous endeavours before being toted around in the car and being dumped into a shopping cart. Erika slowly righted herself, her head throbbing. She looked at the smoker, giving him an apathetic blank look. He shied away from her, looking away from her steady gaze.

He was guilt ridden.

At least he could feel some sort of emotion.

Erika righted herself, helping Jazz get the hunter out as he screeched and struggled, being awoken was a difficult thing for a hunter to grasp. It was evident he wasn't a morning person.

"You alright? I wasn't dying, just a few slaps and a few cuts. Is your nose broken? Broken ribs?" She enquired curiously with much caring, looking him up and down to see if she could see any deformities or broken ribs through his sweater. His nose seemed to be fine, but was gushing blood steadily, dripping down the front of his sweater. His knees had smeared blood spots on it, where his pants had caught the little droplets of blood from the floor.

"I'm fine, just a little sore. I didn't know that he could punch.." Jazz muttered angrily, rolling his eyes and shooting the smoker a glare, who glared back, only to ultimately look off to the side in what could be seen as guilt.

It had to be guilt.

What else could it be?

"Well.. Don't hide anything, if this is really happening then we need to survive, right?"

"Yeah, of course, but I don't want to be all depressing, like those classic horror movies."

"So, you want to go through this like **'Shawn of the dead'**?"

"Yes." Jazz laughed softly, more blood gushing out his nose, his hand flying to his face to try and hold all the blood in.

"Oh, even during the apocalypse nose bleeds are still sexy." Jazz laughed at his own joke, even more blood gushing forth. Erika laughed with him, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Nose bleeds will never not be sexy, even in an apocalypse." She smiled at her companion as they scooted the struggling hunter around.

"well.. Let's tie him to a post, shall we?" Jazz had his shoulder, and Erika had his legs, and as Erika followed his motions to tie him to a post, he struggled even more.

"Put him down here" Her voice was so calm, so surreal. Like none of this had ever happened. She had shallow scratched all over, and a few deep ones on her cheeks. Her neck was going to have terrible bruising, and as for the rest of the cuts, they only bled a very small amount. All of her wounds were very superficial.

Jazz did as told, gently placing the man as Erika went off to get another roll of duct tape. She kept the stuff fastened everywhere, as it always came in handy for the strangest circumstances, such as this one. On her return She said to prop him up against the support beam in the side corner of Jazz's room, and as Erika held him, Jazz taped his body in place. After a good ten minutes he was strongly fastened, and could lean freely without the risk of falling forward.

"I'm going to clean myself up and then see if the news has anything to say." she murmured softly, putting an accomplished hand on the shoulder of her male companion. Erika flitted off to the bathroom, cleaning herself up and changing clothes, as she stunk of something terrible. After that she flopped herself on the couch, slowly scanning through the channels for anything that would be of any help to them. She could hear the smoker getting up, and soon he was standing across the room from her.

Possibly fighting the urge to either eat her or grab her tits again. She laughed at the thought.

Instead he started to slowly scoot closer until she finally acknowledged him. With a heavy sigh of defeat, she patted the couch beside her.

"C'mon lord stench you right disgusting motherfucker." She said in a soothing and assuring tone. He lightened up slightly, and still only scuttled to the side of the couch, seating himself as far away from her as possible.

He still felt guilty.


	8. Tongue in your nose

Zombies could pitch tents and punch. Jazz had to start learning fast before his time started to run out. What if they could break dance? And he was challenged to a dance off. He would be badly whipped if they could break dance, although he doubted it. His face pulsed with pain, a tissue crudely crushed to his face soaking up the red nectar. He looked in the mirror, grimacing that he was already beginning to bruise from the swift punch he received. The smoker didn't seem to be able to hold a fight, let alone throw a punch or take one. He sighed heavily, removing the soft toilet paper covering while the blood dripped down his face. His face was blotched with patches of blood, and finally pulling his gaze away from the beautiful crimson on his skin, he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was a washed out, very dark colour, almost akin to black. It fell in long strips across his face, parted slightly off to the side in a haphazard side-bang. The hair on the back of his head and down his neck was cut short, leaving it to be choppy, and sticking up in little curls that protruded at sharp little angles. A tiny beauty mark was perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, giving him some of that 'signature flare' starlets held during the 1950's when blessed with a well placed mark such as that. He had a very warm and tanned skin tone, his skin smooth. His nose was slightly wide-based, and not pointed like some bird on a park statue. It had a perfectly rounded end, adding on to the overage 'warmth' of his face. Jazz's jawline and chin were not bevel cut with jagged edges, but a smooth-line masculine bone structure. His jaw only went on to complement his eyebrows, as he only used them in the best faces during pickup lines.

With a simmered sigh, he gingerly prodded his fingers over the bruised skin by his nose and cheek bone, causing him to wince when he hit a tender nerve. He would definitely have some dark bruising across his face for a while, and was not happy about it. He would eventually find a flaw to the tall beast in the living room, a way to either trip the thing or some how break his shins. Perhaps a led pipe would do. Where would he even get a led pipe to begin with?

Regardless, Jazz had more pressing matters to attend to, and although he could not stop looking at the handsome reflection staring back at him, he had to go. Turning on his heel he adjusted the hood of his sweater, clearing his throat softly while he could still feel the blood slowly pool down his face. His business was with the hunter, the one fastened to the pole whom had seemed calm, but was still worm-tied with duct tape. His head snapped up, and he let out a deafening snarl. Jazz's whole body shuddered slightly, the fight or flight instincts waging a strong battle inside him.

"Shut up you!" He snapped, flipping off the infected while he tapped his foot and folded his arms across his chest, frowning deeply. The hunter seemed taken back by this, not particularly accustomed to survivors shouting at him at such close proximity. He was more accustomed to a terrified scream, or yelp of fear. The more he thought about it, the more hunger welled up in his gut and before long his nose was lifting to the scent emanating from the male.

It was blood, fresh blood.

He could taste it tantalizing his tongue, tickling his senses and stroking his hunger.

Oh how he ached for a meal. It had been at least a day or so since his last meal, and his body had never stopped thinking about it's next indulgence since he had become sick. He had a barely trimmed stubble, and the remnants of trimmed facial hair, something of a goatee. His hair was cut short, choppy, and a very natural orange-y red colour. As usual, his skin was very pale, almost grey. The infected bore scars, fresh cuts, and gashes swarming with infection and puss. It was actually quite a surprise that his body was still attempting to fight off other forms of infection.

Perhaps the virus itself, this _green flu_ used the bodies own defence to it's advantage. Keeping the host healthy, or, healthy enough, for the virus to inhabit it peacefully. Or as peacefully as a mutating virus with a ravenous appetite could get. Perhaps it hijacked the white cells to harvest as it's own, or it cared little for the immune system, and could possibly go on existing while undetected.

The beast snarled once more, and was met with a stinging in the nose- the repulsively delicious uninfected morsel had dared to flick him in the nose.

How insolent.

His face stung momentarily, head reeling back as his lips raised to form a solid growl. The hunter snapped his maw at the boy his chest and throat rumbling to display his discomfort.

"Stop that! Stop it you big smelly what-ever-you-are. Stop being such an ass!" Jazz retorted quickly, smacking his flat hand right onto the face of the hunter, mostly on the bridge of the nose and the forehead- to keep his hand safe from the beasts mouth. The hunter slowly let the growl die away, letting it subside into a lowly protest of quips and whines. Soon enough the hunger washed over the infected again, and his stomach clenched painfully. How could he possibly endure this if the prey was going to taunt him with the precarious smell of fresh blood piquing his thirst. This was unbearable!

Finally a new idea came to his irreversibly fogged and damaged brain, his neurons pitifully firing and bouncing off one another. Possible thoughts of so many things whirred in his mind, making him seem to space as he tried to unjumble the mess in his head. His brain felt like thick mud, the kind you can lose your boots and shoes in easily. It was simply swallowing him up, as broken bits and pieces of information bit him from every angle. This was why he did not like to think, it felt as if he were moving so slowly. As if he were swimming in a lake of sludge, barely treading water. His thoughts shifted suddenly, as the male moved closer to him, and the smell of blood waned his thoughts momentarily.

Hungry.

Food.

Prey.

Dogs?

The last thought confused him. What did some sort of.. dog creature.. have to do with food? Where they edible? He thought very hard about this, about as hard as a mentally handicapped sick man could. The ideas slowly, but surely, started to form. Dogs were related in through packs, and he knew what a pack was. His mind took a violent turn left, and brought him to the closer, less-muddled thoughts of the recent past. He had gone through plenty of territories, and had fought and won against many challengers, claiming mates and gaining hunting grounds. His subconscious brought up the remembrance of the two temporary males whom he had once had in a pack. They had been very submissive, and even offered him some of their meal. They had all wrestled equally, and had come to feel almost like family. Male equals. Perhaps he could be equals here, only if to gain food and freedom. He would decide what to do with freedom, and the _equals_ after he was free.

The hunter stretched his neck out as far as he could possibly make it go, straining himself and whimpering pitifully to get the males attention. Emotions easily splayed themselves on the monsters face, contorting his face in pitiful sadness and defeat. Jazz watched him, and before long the hunter was sticking his tongue out, tasting the air weakly while whining and yelping loudly. He writhed behind his binds to no avail, his hunger squirming and biting him from within.

Jazz finally caught on, gently touching his fingers to his face before sucking the blood off them. "You must be hungry, huh." He murmured, shrugging it off and leaning to the side, watching as the hunters head followed him no matter where he went.

"Fine." He grunted out, dipping his head forward as the infected's tongue barely swept across his skin, the fresh blood pooling slowly on his tongue. It was barely even a trickle anymore. The hunter pulled back, smacking his lips hungrily. The fire in his belly was suddenly doused, and he stopped his fighting.

Jazz was surprised, watching him quietly, folding his arms. He wasn't very impressed yet. The hunter seemed to be aware of this, and whimpered complainingly, a saddened puppy-dog face greeting him fondly.

"Mmmmmm... Fine, you seem calm enough. If Erika can pull this off and not die, so can I." He grumbled miserably, not exactly sure what he was diving into right now. Taking a pair of child-scissors he cut the tape quickly, and soon enough the hunter was calmly standing, waiting to be released. Once the hunter felt that the tape was loosened enough, his body hunched slightly, and in anger he ripped the bind from himself, growling in anguish and rage.

"OH." Was the only response Jazz could get out as the beastie gripped the collar of his sweater, his hands coming up in a dinosaur-esq fashion. The hunter threw him onto the floor, jumping atop the boy, his feet position awkwardly so the infected could dig his heels into Jazz's sides. Still gripping Jazz's collar, he leaned down, sweeping his tongue across the blood-caked part of his face in a disgruntling manner that rivalled eating a dead rotten fish with ones feet.

"NO! Arghhfffbt! Get your tongue OUT FO THERE! It doesn't belong in there! No! Bad! NO NOT IN THERE NOT DFGHJJSDS..." He wasn't going to die, but he sure hoped that Erika didn't take the sounds of him getting a hunters tongue up his nose in the wrong manner.


	9. I smell awful

Something woke me up, A loud clatter reaching my ears, causing me to jerk out of my light sleep. My body ached, but then again, it always ached. I was always in a constant pain, my skin was taught over the numerous discrepancies from this virus, and the constant reconstruction of my tongue was always very agitating. On top of that I almost always had a bruise, a sprained limb, sore joints, and a back that screamed in agony. I had always tried to stand straight, an for the most part I did, but I did occasionally lean to one side due to the loss of vision from that side. And now I was here, stuck in the small confines of an apartment. Looking around slowly, I noticed it was the small creatures that had made the noise. They seemed to be playing, and had knocked something over.

Although I, for the life of myself, could never fully distinguish playing from fighting. I had never understood the hooded mongrels whom travelled in large quarries. I longed to be content as they were, and to share kinship like they did with one another. Unfortunately I could only pick up behaviours that seemed suited to this, as I wasn't fast enough for the hooded harlots. Although this did make it more effective to communicate with them. Even my own kind- the ones with the same smell as I, Refused to make a pseudo-pack with me. I had always seemed to be the odd one out.

I could hear something else now, loud footsteps, and the squeal of poorly-treated metal wheels rumbling outside the apartment.

Could it be them?

I straightened myself, slowly rising as my anger and frustration started to bubble up once more, awakening from it's festering nest within me. I had nearly lost my footing, almost slipping on the various food contents I had spilled out onto the floor. Taking a deep and wheezed breath, I calmed myself, keeping quiet to not give my position away. Perhaps this was why the others had not wanted to partake with me? I knew that my kin had almost always coughed at a constant rate when enraged or hunting, and I did share their screams. I did not share the constant coughing though, and this is what has given me much succession when hunting the healthy meatsacks. When it came to being near silent, I was an elitist, or at least I prided myself on that. There had never been a time when I had gone hungry while there were still survivors shuffling about like ants.

I could hear talking, and I could smell them. There was a different smell, but I didn't care much for it. My muscles tensed, and my body tightened. I held my breath, willing it to stay in my mucus-shrivelled lungs for as long as possible. The door opened, and I saw the female poke in. She didn't see me, as I had stayed perfectly still. She didn't even look my way.

What a fool, she would not survive alone.

Finally, after she deliberated with her, what I assumed was her male counterpart, she came back in. She was cautious, and resembled the furred creatures in many ways as she moved. Though she was so small, she was graceful, and terrifying. Intimidation was not a problem with the female fleshpound. However, I was not scared. I broiled with rage, my muscles and nerves firing off as I imagined unleashing hell's gates upon the woman. I saw a moment to strike, as she slowly made her way towards the other rooms I had not ventured close to in their absence. With a burst of satisfaction, she was coiled, and turn to face me. I was ready to pull and knock her off her feet, but she leaned back. She was not screaming, not fighting. Her face didn't look scared at all, and she made no noises of fear. She looked almost.. bored. Bored with my assault, and bored with her possibly strangulation. I had not aimed high enough, gotten her just below the chest, around her middle.

Finally I had reeled her in close enough, and yelled my frustration and anguish at her. The male rushed in, obviously trying to protect his pack member as the hunters so fervently did. Raising my arm, I punched him in the face, sending him flopping down like a feedbag with a broken leg or a gunshot wound. He tried to come back again, and instead I kicked him hard in the ribs. After he had subsided his weak attack, I raised my arm, letting the rage in my gut fester and boil over for another minute, bringing my arm down to her face with as much force as I could muster. It was like explosions of hot writhing fire had erupted in my stomach, crawling up through my chest as I raised my arm again, hitting her with the backside of my hand. Soon, this wasn't enough, and I blindly groped at her skin with my nails, feeding the rage within me.

It felt so good, I revelled in it. She did not scream and fight and kick, but simply took it. That only angered me to no end, that she would not react at all, only letting out small sounds when I threw my strength into it.

Just as I had curled my fingers around her throat, squeezing the oxygen from her, something hit me in the head. Something heavy that sloshed and stunk. The object dumped it's contents onto me, and onto the female. I gritted my teeth tightly and tried to muster a scream, but I could not control my anger at that point and my tongue snapped under the females bearing weight.

How could I have been so stupid.

I crumpled backwards, hitting the cupboards below the sink as their handles dug into my skin viciously. I could barely watch the female meatsack topple to the floor, her arms still bound to her sides while her head smashed against the hard floor. I started to gain my footing once more, moving with much haste to leap back onto her. I raised my other arm, and started to swing it down.

Just as I was about to make contact with her skin, the male screeched at me. I looked up, and my arm lost it's momentum, and it's target. The male had his arm raised, something black in it. My mind was rocked back to the focus of the female, and I looked down as my hand hit her breast with barely any force. Her head lolled from side to side numbly, eyes half-lidded. Her eyes looked around the room with a detachment, she wasn't really looking at anything, her eyes just seemed to be moving on their own.

Had she honestly hit her head that hard? I could not tell, I was no doctor.

My mind flitted back to the hand on her breast, and looking back up at the male my anger suddenly deserted me. My other arm fell slack, the muscles immediately uncoiling from their tight grip, leaving it to rest on the breast opposite to the one under my hand now. Thoughts with no form or solidity fluttered in my mind, I began to get goosebumps along my skin, and my stomach churned with the crash of tiny waterfall-like feelings. My innards were on fire again, but I didn't exactly get the same rise I had before, the same feeling as seeing her exposed skin.

What was I doing? My rage had engulfed me.

My body shuddered and lurched, suddenly disgusted with the feeling of wanting to take a life. Why did I feel this way? I had not even eaten yet. I had never felt the aggravating guilt while in the process of killing, It was always afterwards that I felt disgusted with myself, after I had filled my gullet. I chanced another glance down, and rolled off of her. Immediately I sheltered myself in the corner where I had slept, huddling my knees close to my chest as I sat against it. Slowly, I watched the woman right herself, hoisting her own body up in an assured way. She was definitely resilient, Paying more worried mind to the male then to her own wounds. It was admirable, and she was definitely a pack-worker.

She looked back at me briefly, causing my body to shudder against it's will as I hung my head sullenly and looked off to the side. Her eyes seemed to bore into me, causing pins to prickle against my skin with the shock of dismay and uncertainty in myself. I could see from my peripheral vision she had looked away, and the male wheeled in a cart.

There was a hooded fool within the confines of the roofless cage.

I stayed silent, letting slip past a small wheeze or the sound of clearing my throat noisily. They began to hoist the beast up, and the male looked at me, his face angry and crinkled as blood gushed down his face. I glared back at him, letting out a growling cough that he probably could not hear above the screaming hood. Regrettably, I would have to find a new name for this one, as he had no hood. I would have to chance a thought about that later, too indulged in watching as they worked, glaring at the male as his eyes wandered over to me every few steps.

The pair with their bounty disappeared, and I stayed in my seat, waiting for their return to perhaps right the wrong I had done in my unthinkable boiling rage. Eventually, I saw the female return, before flitting off to what I could only guess would be a small holding room or den, Or perhaps it was the gate to Narnia, as I had never looked into any of the rooms myself. Maybe it was a portal to hell, it would explain the woman's inexplicable tolerance for pain. She came out once again, the door idly swinging behind her. The blood was cleaned off her skin, only red marks and small cuts around her flesh, and the bruises of hand prints could be seen around her neck. They almost looked beautiful, as I had observed from the pair, they both looked beautiful when damaged. I wondered vaguely if this was a normal thought.

She went out of sight again, back to the couch I had observed them sitting on the first time, when I had been fastened to the damn chair. It felt like I had been here for days, when really it had only been a some few hours. Nearly half a day I supposed, maybe more.

Getting up from my uncomfortable floor perch, I shambled towards her, swallowing thickly. She didn't look at me, or really acknowledge my presence, so I took that as permission to continue forward. Finally she looked up, and I was slightly surprised that her face did not contort and crumple in anger. Not even the corners of her mouth pulled. She seemed unaffected by the event, watching me with an almost nonjudgmental gaze. I nearly flinched when she patted the couch, babbling something at me that I could not comprehend any longer. I could distinguish voice tones, and when she spoke to me I was filled with a serene delight-.. followed by the heavy guilt in my spine and gut. Settling myself as gently as possible on the couch, I scooted as far away as possible, even leaning my body away and resting the good side of my face propped on a hand. She sighed, and we dumbly watched the television screen.

"In other news, Everyone is to make it to an evacuation point. Full infestation should occur in Ontario, Manitoba, and southern Alberta in approximately a week. I repeat, evacuate now, before it is to late. This will be the last time we will be broadcasting. Every station will be turned to military broadcasting in case of new information. We repeat once more, we are going off the air in five.. four.. three.." As the reporter trailed off I saw him lip the other words of his babble. After that, the whole screen changed to a circle with the words "Emergency broadcasting" Printed neatly in the middle.

Nothing aired after that, and all other channels were the same thing, a tiny maple leaf in the corner to provide that it was Canadian broadcasting. I could care less, I did not understand what any of it meant. What I did not like, however, was the low _whirring _that the station made. Finally the woman turned the show off, and we sat in comfortable silence. After what seemed to be forever, the male could be heard screeching and squawking in the other room. Prior I had barely even heard the other infected growl and bark, too absorbed in my own self pity and the news broadcast I could not understand or wanted to.

The male emerged, the eyeless fool in toe behind him. The male meatsack was holding a hand to his face, against his nose, where I had cleanly hooked him. The eyeless gawk had his tongue hanging out leisurely, his eyeless sockets half lidded, making him look idiotic and gaudy. Like a kid hyped up on Ritalin, or some other calming drug.

"I think we're mated for life now or something." The male blurted out, his body quivering slightly as he tugged his shoulders up, his eyes squinting shut as he made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

"He totally stuck his tongue into your nasal cavity didn't he." The female laughed, her shoulders shaking and bunching pleasantly, causing me to muster up a sort of smile. I couldn't help it, the laughs of these two creatures was irresistible.

"Totally." The male responded, still disgusted. "I think he was trying to lick the inside of my eye or something."

"So hot, so very very hot" she teased, wiggling her fingers at him.

'Fingers like a pianist.' I thought blankly, not understanding the concept. They both had beautiful hands, although I didn't understand why they had seemed so attractive. Another thought hit me hard in the face, but in a more dumbfounded manner, as I didn't understand it's meaning. 'Artists hands, both of them.'

What was an artist? And what was a pianist? I would probably never find an answer to my fruitless quarries. My mind always seemed to throw bits of sentence or meaning or information at me. In my sickened state, I would never understand them, the remnants of who I once was trying to wiggle back to life within my psyche. How I hoped to rid myself of the annoying thoughts, to squash the small worm of what was left of my past self. It would be convenient, and would probably get rid of the disgusting emotions I harboured.

I felt as if constantly ripped in two, one half battling the other, two wolves in a fight to the death. The better question was which do I feed. This feeling, as well as most others, I would probably never understand.


	10. Austrian magnets, how do they work?

"What's that Angry green giant doing on the couch? He should be banished to the balcony, or locked in the bathroom." Jazz hissed out at the infected, crinkling his nose and lifting his lip at the creature. The smoker simply cocked his head up, straightening slightly and glaring at the man.

"Don't be so cruel, He didn't mean it.." Her voice trailed off, raving her hand at him. Her mind wandered slightly, Thinking about the behaviours of the two captive infected. Perhaps they had a hard time fighting the urge to kill. They should arm themselves some how. Possibly forks? They could kill a person if you got them in the throat or eye. Or at least deter them slightly.

"Like hell he didn't mean it. Look at that disgusting bastard!" Jazz motioned a hand at the smoker, folding the other over his chest while huffing in defiance. He extended his chest, puffing it out to seem larger while the hunter was crawling across the apartment like a curious dog. He could be heard snuffling about, probably devouring what was left of the spilt food.

"At least he's smarter then your gross orange haired dog. What a bum-rag." She crossed her arms as well, rolling her eyes before tossing a side glance towards the kitchen that was out of sight. Her back was turned to the smoker, and he curiously looked around, not getting up in case the male decided to challenge him again. He didn't want to feel the guilty churning feeling he had gotten for harming one of the females pack members.

"No way, look at that precious baby." Jazz retorted, and they both looking in the kitchen direction as he sniffed and licked one of the kittens. Erika and Jazz both smiled at him. Maybe he wasn't as vicious as the news report had claimed, maybe they were all just very angry and had a bad case of the munchies.

"Aw, Well I suppo-" The cat screamed bloody murder as it writhed on the floor, The hunter silencing it with the crack of the little cats neck between his teeth. He then proceeded to shake his head violently, ripping apart the little animal while he innocently gnawed on a limb.

"No! Bad! Bad Hunter!" Jazz twisted his hands, looking around to find something to throw, while Erika screeched at the man. He looked up briefly from his content meal, immediately growling at her as he realized he wasn't completely an equal yet. He started to back up, his teeth bared.

The hood of the hunter was supposed to make them intimidating, not being able to see their face. A snarling and diseased man was just as intimidating, if not more.

That didn't matter now, the woman screeching at him and jumping up off the couch, running at him, compensating when she knocked into something or crawled over something, finally jumping on him.

Erika was a dirty fighter, she was small, and light. Sure, she had great strength and had won in many fights, but that was because she had only fought like a wild animal. And wild animals fought dirty. She started to choke him while his claws raked her back, causing her to arch her back into a high little bridge, trying to stop him from digging in too deep. That probably didn't help, but it was better then letting just get to her lower muscles and spine. Her hands were strong, and soon he started to wheeze and gasp for air. Of course she wasn't going to kill him, but she wasn't going to let him just get away with things like that. Holding on tightly she grabbed a fistful of his hair as he scratched and flailed his legs. He started clawing her sides frantically as he gasped for sweet salvation, ready to roll her out of control so he could finish her off. Lifting his head, she slammed it against the hard tile floor, causing the hunter to go limp as he made a light sound in his throat, a sort of gentle groan of pain. She screamed in his face, and slapped him hard against the mouth.

_'not my kind beat me, only my kind ever beat me. Equals? Why equals. Female beat me? Equals. Male, Male shared with me. Equals. Not my kind. Not my kind but equals? She smells like my kind, but not my kind. Can not my kind make pack? Equals.'_

his mind was swimming with new thoughts and epiphanies, as the black dots in the corners of his eyes fluttered around, making him shudder softly. She was the new alpha, as in his usual equals fights, they were both evenly matched. She had simply domineered over him. He couldn't respond properly, barely mustering out gargled cracks and yelps as she shook him violently and dug her long nails into his shoulders. Warm drops of water were hitting him in the face, and he turned his head away clumsily to try and avoid the onslaught of tears. The male came and gripped her shoulder gently, and she simply let go of the hunter. She wiped her tears away, hugging Jazz in a tight grip while clearing her throat gingerly and hiccuping. She calmed herself, breathing deeply.

"We need guns, and medical supplies. I'm bleeding all over you.." she muttered unhappily, her clothes soaked and torn. The smoker seemed to be broiling with rage, but had calmed himself when he saw that the female had won.

"I have some bandages we can temporarily patch you up with." Jazz offered, looking down at her sides that were soaked with blood. She followed him, nodding in approval. He patched her up just barely, and she simply just gritted her teeth in the burning and violent stabbing of the pain. She enjoyed it, it made her feel like a live wire.

When they returned to the living room, she looked over the two infected.

"If they're going to stay here, they need names." She spat out, looking the hunter over in almost simmering anger. "You get your hunter friend. I'll get the tall one." She waved a hand, and they both set to work, Jazz having to roll the hunter over as he refused to get up. Erika simply held out a hand and motioned for him to get up when he reeled back. He was as cautious of her now as she was of him, and that was fine.

"I found a wallet!" Jazz said triumphantly, holding up a nice leather wallet.

"As did I." Erika smiled back at him, holding a beaver-tail wallet in her own hands.

Jazz read out the hunters name first. "Bishop Sayden Benson. Age 30." He laughed, motioning to Erika.

"Frederick Schabetsberger. He's 26." she looked at it and laughed. "I seem to attract all the Austrians, huh."

After a few good jokes, they left, leaving the infected to fight and argue amongst themselves.


	11. We're stuck, And you smell

What a loud noise, my head throbbed slightly from the female not-my-kind but equal. She beat me in a fight, why did she start a fight? Must be because of tiny furred delicious I took. Tiny furred was a pack member? Why would Female not-my-kind have such a tiny pack member. Female not-my-kind beat me, so she isn't equals. More then equals? She must be the leader of her pack, and she beat me. I felt happy, now I had a pack again, and I would be fed. Where was their nest room? Other packs always had a nest room, and all the pack sleeps together, nuzzled up in the nest room. Female not-my-kind must be a good hunter, Not many hunters beat me in a wrestle. I am happy that the Female not-my-kind is a good hunter, We wont go hungry with a good hunter.

What was I doing? I don't know. I could care less, the floor is nice. Male not-my-kind came over, and I growled lazily. He was pulling my hand, trying to get me up. I don't want to get up, so I jerk my hand away, and lay on the floor. He made some sort of frustrated noise, and started pushing me over onto my side. I didn't care, the floor was nice. He took something out of my lower coverings that had been bothering me for a while when I would leap or sit down. Male not-my-kind was nice, I felt better now.

"Bishop Sayden Benson. Age 30." I lift my head, those words are so familiar. Is that my.. my _Name? _Must be. If male not-my-kind has my name, they must have a name too. What kind of name would I give these three new pack members? Was smokey my-kind but not one-half-of-myself part of the pack? I didn't really think so.

Female not-my-kind needs a name. I made a click with my tongue, which I thought was a good name. Would she understand it? I thought about that, thought about it until my head hurt.

What about the male? I thought about that for what seemed like forever, what kind of name would he have? I made different sounds in my throat, trying to find one that would be good for him. I thought a strangled peep of a laugh-like sound was acceptable. I had given that name to another pack member before, one of the weaker males I had used to have a pack with.

I was still laying on the floor when my two not-my-kind but equals pack members came back out. I clicked at the female, and made the strangle laugh-peep at the male. They didn't respond, and only continued out, slamming the moving wood-wall behind them. The sound was so loud. The sound had calmed, and I was still on the floor. I had named my pack members, except for the smelly one-half of-myself. The female was click, and the male.. well he was squig.

So bored. Now what? Hungry? No.

One-half-of-myself was on the couch, Doing what, I didn't know. He smelled like he was angry, but just barely. Maybe he was bored like I was. I crawled onto the soft thingy, and he moved back. I moved forward, ready to asses him and if he was pack-worthy. I had always taken it onto myself to evaluate potential pack members. If I didn't like them, they always had to wrestle with me. The smeller moved further back, making a weird wheezy noise at me. He was getting annoyed, I kept moving. If he doesn't want to do anything about me moving, he was not good enough. Finally I was getting on smellers last nerve. All I remember was crawling all over the smeller, and then I was on the floor, and my face hurt badly.

Smeller must have hit me, and he hit me hard. I scrub my face with my hand, scratching my own skin to try and sooth the pain. It hurt, but I could easily ignore the pain. Smeller was worthy, and I thought about a name for him. I mimicked his cough, and that was good enough for me. Click, Squig, and Wheeze.

Perfect pack, warm pack. I hoped my Squig and Click would come back soon, I'm hungry. I tug on the pants of the tall Wheeze, Growling. I am hungry, hear me roar. He hisses and yells at me, and I back up slightly and growl when he shoves me off his leg. Wheeze is not the playful pack member. Maybe Squig will play? I didn't know about that, he seemed more like the snuggly member. Not rough and tumble-play. Alpha would tumble-play, she had to.

I grab the pant leg of Wheeze again, and growl in a nicer way this time. I tug lightly, trying to say I'm hungry. He kicks me away again, and I sit up. I try to remember what I did when I was hungry. I hugged my stomach, placing an open palm on it, making another soft growl in my throat that died off in a tiny whine. I hopped Wheeze would get it, and soon he was walking away from me, tugging at the tufts of hair on my head. I followed, and he led me to some closed cold-portal. He opened it with a _whoosh, _cold air hit my face and I back up in surprise.

It smelled good, but not good like when I went hunting for warm ones. It was still the kinds of smells that made me hungry, so I tasted. I couldn't decide if this was yummy or gross, so I ate it all. I decided it was good, and ate anything I could get my claws on. I even ate this nasty burning stuff, downing anything that sloshed inside a container after my mouth burned so much. I'm sure the cold-portal was empty. I pushed my fingers into all the little cracks, trying to find anything left.

Satisfied, I crawled back to the couch, and Wheeze must have pushed the cold-portal closed, because I heard something funny behind me. I flopped over, curling up lazily, my head and an arm tossed over the arm rest. Wheeze followed, too, and he was completely stretched out on some part of the soft mushy couch. I stretched a foot back, and realized the couch thing was shaped like a large L, and I was on the short half. My chest rumbled peacefully, and soon I slept, thoughts of my full belly and new pack floating around.

Such a nice black, dreaming. Sights and smells, but still black. I like dreams.


	12. Insert dramatic chapter title here

Fumbling with the keys, Jazz finally managed to lock the apartment door. Although it probably wouldn't deter any robbers, or hold in the special infected that were inside, it was still a daily routine. Erika might have ripped her hair out from sheer stupidity. They were in mid invasion from the infection, and they had both left the apartment with no weapons. Perhaps a lighter and a pack of cigarettes on the woman, and maybe a pencil or two on the man, but that was it. The pencil would only be useful in close-ranged problems, and the cigarettes would only be of use if they were planning on smoking an infected to death.

"Okay so.. the plan?" Jazz shifted awkwardly, leaning part of his body against the door as he looked at his companion. She thought for a moment, putting a hand to her lip to think deeply for a moment. That didn't last long when she heard a very faint bang from down the hall. The bang was followed suit by another, and then another. Soon it was a cascade of what seemed to be fist banging against one of the numerous doors.

"The plan.." She murmured to herself, staring in the direction of the noise like a deer in headlights.

"Yes... The plan." Jazz urged her on, leaning forward after getting off the wall, and rolling his hands in the motion of a barrel to make her continue. She looked at him, her eyes wide and alert and her head on a swivel.

"We run like hell and hope that we don't die before making it to the batmobile." She nodded, beginning off at a sprint before Jazz could honestly realize where she was headed. They were both fairly fast, and almost matched for speed. The banging on the door became frantic, and soon one of the hinges began to come loose. Out from the miniscule sliver, the clouded vision and grey skin of an infected could be seen. Obviously the running had irritated him, and began to bellow and yell as the two sped by. Erika completely ignored it, running past the door without a second stomaching glance. Jazz attempted to do the same, but the cloudy eyes caught him, and as he sailed past he nearly lost his footing, caught mid-leap. Erika looked behind herself, and nearly felt her heart leap into her throat as jazz stumbled slightly, slowing down a little by the door with the infected.

Finally, they had reached the lobby after turning down a different hall. More banging, moaning, and yelling could be heard behind different doors. It was barely even a day and people were already 'turning', if you could even say that.

The lobby was simply devoid of life, not a single human being.

Ignoring the empty plains of the lobby, they rummaged around the area, peeping around the unfinished architecture for anything of use. Jazz uncovered a cement trawl, while Erika had successfully ripped a board off a wall with nails it.

"I also found a hammer," she said softly, feeling more cautious then ever as she handed the object over to Jazz and he tossed away the trawl.

Thank god the board wasn't extremely large, or Erika might have been encumbered by the board, regardless if it had a barrage of nails in the end of it.

"Ready?" She asked, looking at Jazz as she spoke. They were both shifting their weight smoothly from foot to foot, uneasy and itching to leave their hell hole. Jazz jerkily nodded his head, almost half guessing himself about the decision. He was impatient, the banging seeming to quiet but still lingering in the background, reminding them of their slow-tow enemies. Quietly, with as much care as possible, Erika pushed the main door open. It creaked slightly, and every noise the door made caused her to freeze like a grazing animal of prey. Finally after a painful minute they both managed to wiggle into the entrance area. Like most apartment buildings, there were two entry doors for security and safety.

"Fresh air!" Jazz gasped to himself, exhaling all his nervously coiled fears in one ceremonious breath.

"This isn't a time to celebrate.." Erika murmured softly, tossing a side glance to the male as she was still partially crouched over. Jazz gulped back his breath, embracing his fears once more to stay alert and ready. Erika scouted out first, trying to manoeuvre as quickly as possible in a hunched over half-crouch. She motioned Jazz over, who followed suit and joined her crouching beside a large oak in the front yard of the apartment building.

"What now." Jazz grumbled out unhappily, holding his hammer sluggishly at his side as he looked around, letting his alertness edge away.

Everything was dead quiet. It felt abandoned, as if they were the only ones left alive.

"We go around this tree, and down the street to the mini mart. Grab what ever you can, stuff your shit to the top, then we will pile it in the car. Two or three trips should be good.. Don't grab anything that will rot." Jazz nodded at this, but felt uneasy that they didn't just take the car and ditch the two creatures in the apartment. They didn't need to feed two more mouths when they might not be able to feed their own.

"We should just leave!" Jazz snarled out in a whisper, crouching lower to relax slightly.

"We need supplies before some shit-head takes them and we are left to starve, the mini-mart is a good place to start. We'll leave afterwards." She assured him calmly, half contorted around the tree to peek around it and observe the area. Erika patted the tree, a natural signal as she left her spot by the tree trunk, running out at a sprint to the store like a frightened deer. Jazz followed behind her, and they both swivelled down the stairs and into the cubbyhole of the puny store. There was a thick metal door that led into the shop, and was sometimes a bit of a plight to open from it's sheer weight.

"Peek in, see if anything is in there." Erika murmured, taping the door with her small plank. Jazz stood quite still, quivering slightly at the request.

"Give me the board." He urged, holding out a hand for the weapon.

"It might restri-"

"I don't care, give me the board."

"Alright, here." She handed it off to him casually, not looking behind herself as he took it and handed her the hammer.

"I'll be back.. I hear something, don't go in until I come back." She looked back at him and smiled, a warm friendly smile that honestly shouldn't have been plastered on her mug.

"O-okay.." He replied, watching her go as the sickness and tension coiled deeply at the base of his gut. Now he was alone, and straining his ears to hear anything, he waited. Everything was simply.. quiet. Not the sound of the wind, not the hum of a car, or even the flapping wings or twitter of a bird.

Not even his partners footsteps.

It was agonizing, waiting for her like this. What if something came in to pounce while she was gone? How could he know what to do if it happened? Swing, hit the thing, rinse, repeat. The board in his hand suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. Made his hands chafe and his skin blister in regret. How was he, in such a confined space, supposed to have the ability to swing and kill something. If he lacked the ability to swing his nailed board, he only had a mere stick. Something to shove at someone else and push them away. He couldn't defend himself with this unless he was willing to get up close and personal to jam crooked and sharp nails into a face. Minutes went by, and still, nothing.

"Holy shit!" He heard bellowed out from a ways away. For a moment he was frozen to the spot, unable to move as he thought some horrific beast was going to come and eviscerate him brutally. When Erika called out his name loudly, he was jerked out of his trance, and dashed out of his hiding spot. He expected some gruesome scene of an injured friend, but to the contrary, she was simply standing there and looking up at one of the balconies the tiny shop was attached to. The apartment was on the opposite of theirs, and the shop took up the closest section to the road. Once Jazz arrived, he looked up, following where her eyes were focused. It was a person hanging off the balcony in a noose.

"It's the shop owner." She murmured softly, her gaze softening slightly to a look of bereft.

"He crapped his pants." Jazz pointed up with the board, earning a chuckle followed by a guilty glare from his friend.

"Let's get into that shop." She muttered turning away with a sour look, attempting to look sorrowful and guilty from nearly laughing at Jazz's observation.


End file.
